


The Swish of Her Hips

by captainraz



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainraz/pseuds/captainraz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor is a little distracted today and it's all Cassandra's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Swish of Her Hips

**Author's Note:**

> For [Glempy](https://twitter.com/Glempy)

Two facts are well known inside Skyhold: one, that Cassandra Pentaghast is an incredibly attractive woman; two, that Inquisitor Trevelyan is head over heels in love with Cassandra and sometimes has difficulty concentrating on her duties when the Seeker is around.

This fact is especially true today.

Trevelyan wonders if Cassandra is aware of the effect she’s having. The Inquisitor certainly isn’t the only one who’s noticed it; Bull had to pick his jaw up off the floor after watching Cassandra saunter over to the training dummies and even _Dorian_ has found himself flustered on more than one occasion when talking to the Seeker. Today Cassandra is simply oozing sensuality and if even Dorian has noticed—with his predilections—then Trevelyan can be forgiven for being unable to keep her brain on the task at hand.

Especially when she’s the one who put that secret little smile on Seeker Pentaghast’s face in the first place. _Maker,_ she thinks, _there’s no way I’m going to get through today alive._ It’s not a bad way to die though, given all that’s going on in the world at the moment.

Cassandra is in her usual corner beating seven hells out of the practice dummies and somehow making it look incredibly sexy. Trevelyan has managed to escape Josephine’s clutches for a few moments and is watching the woman she loves discretely from the battlements. She can see the slight sheen of sweat on Cassandra’s skin and it’s making her heart do funny things. Closing her eyes the Inquisitor remembers sweat-slicked skin in a very different context, the taste of salt and the scent of arousal.

She doesn’t know how anyone expects her to get anything constructive done now that she knows what Cassandra looks like in the throes of passion, knows what that accented voice sounds like gasping out words of affection and declarations of love. Trevelyan feels the flush of arousal flow through her at the mere thought.

“Lady Cassandra certainly seems to be in a good mood today.”

Trevelyan jumps at the voice, startled out of her besotted reverie; Josephine has caught up with her at last. “She certainly seems to be,” says the Inquisitor, hoping desperately that the tremor in her voice doesn’t betray her arousal.

“It is good to see,” says Josephine. “Seeker Pentaghast is a good person but I fear she is a little too tightly wound at times.” She nudges the Inquisitor with her arm. “You’re good for her. She certainly seems more relaxed since the two of you took up together.”

Trevelyan fights the urge to make a strangled noise in her throat. Tightly wound. Relaxed. Maker could Josephine have chosen any less appropriate words? Knowing the Ambassador though, she’s done it on purpose. She settles for making a non-committal sort of noise at the Antivan, her thoughts more concerned with the image of Cassandra’s naked body tangled up in bedsheets than making conversation.

Down in the courtyard the Seeker is apparently done with her drills for the afternoon and saunters over to a water barrel, her hips swaying in a manner that makes Trevelyan want to moan. She barely manages to restrain herself. Cassandra drinks deeply from the barrel and then tips a bucket of water over her head to cool down. The Inquisitor actually whimpers out loud, unable to stop her visceral response to the sight of Cassandra shaking out her damp locks, drops of moisture running down that elegant throat.

“Oh my, Seeker Pentaghast isn’t the only one who’s tightly wound I see.”

Trevelyan wants to growl at Josephine in frustration but somehow resists; she’s a good friend and it’s not Josephine’s fault she so turned on she can barely think straight. “I’m sorry Lady Montiliyet, I’m just having difficulty concentrating today.”

“Hmm, I can see that.” Josephine looks the Inquisitor up and down before her gaze flickers to where Cassandra is fending off some inappropriate remarks from Bull. She seems to come to some sort of conclusion but neglects to share it with Trevelyan. “I am afraid I need some more of your time this afternoon Inquisitor,” she says and she sounds apologetic. “A few hours in the war room and then I shall be out of your hair I promise. Perhaps we could arrange for you to have dinner with Lady Cassandra afterwards,” she says, eyeing the Inquisitor slyly.

Trevelyan’s mind ignores the offer of a meal, instead concerning itself with remembering tastes and textures that have absolutely nothing to do with food. Josephine touches her elbow lightly; she makes a noise of acknowledgement and allows herself to be led away. Somehow she manages to keep her mind on work for the rest of the afternoon, though it takes an enormous amount of effort. When she finally escapes Trevelyan all but bolts from the war room to find Cassandra, determined that she has suffered enough for one day.

The Seeker isn’t in the training yards any more and has no meetings that the Inquisitor is aware of (and she makes sure to be aware of every detail of Cassandra’s schedule) so she climbs the stairs to the loft above the armoury two at a time. Her heart skips a beat (or three) when she sees the Seeker sat at the table on the first floor, a book in her lap.

Biting down on the inane grin trying to take over her face, Trevelyan leans casually on the wooden balustrade. “Good book?”

Cassandra looks up through her lashes and smiles in a way that sets the Inquisitor’s blood on fire. “The usual.” The Seeker’s voice is low and husky and it sends a shiver down Trevelyan’s spine.

She groans. “You are going to be the death of me you know?” Cassandra looks shocked and the Inquisitor knows then that she has no idea the effect she’s been having on her—on half of Skyhold. “You…” She licks her lips. Her mouth feels suddenly dry. “You didn’t know you were doing it, did you?”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Swaying your hips just a little more than necessary when you were walking. Giving secret little smiles when you thought no one was watching. Tipping a bucket of water over your head after running your drills.”

Cassandra flushes. “You noticed that?”

“It was hard not to. You’ve been exuding raw sexuality all day and it’s been driving me mad. Maker, Cassandra, even _Dorian_ noticed.”

The blush on Cassandra’s cheeks deepens, and it makes the Inquisitor tingle. “Well, I suppose I have been thinking about last night rather a lot today.” She stands, placing her book reverently on the table and approaches the Inquisitor, hips still swaying ever so sensually. Trevelyan can’t help but reach out and put her hands on them.

“Last night was supposed to help with _this_ ,” she reluctantly removes one hand from the Seeker’s hip to gesture between them, “not make it worse.”

Cassandra blinks in surprise. “Worse? How is this worse?” She steps closer to Trevelyan, their bodies flush, and the Inquisitor’s brain abandons any hope of making any sense in the near future.

The Inquisitor groans. “Maker Cass, I can’t think when you’re this close.” Her hands slip around Cassandra’s waist completely without Trevelyan’s permission. All she can think about was how _good_ she smells.

“Well, if last night’s… activities haven’t alleviated anything, perhaps we should try again?” Cassandra’s hands come to rest on Trevelyan’s ass and there is a definite flirtatious lilt to her voice.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Seeker Pentaghast?” Trevelyan is proud of herself for getting a whole sentence out without stuttering or making an undignified noise.

Cassandra’s lips quirk into a smile, her face so close to the Inquisitor’s she can feel the Nevarran’s breath on her cheeks. “Is it working?”

“Maker yes,” she breathes against Cassandra’s lips. “I’ve wanted this all day.”

Cassandra kisses her then and Trevelyan’s brain gives up any pretence of caring about anything other than the sensation of the Seeker’s lips on hers. She is drowning and doesn’t ever want to come up for breath. Somehow they manage to stumble up another flight of stairs to where Cassandra keeps her bedroll and as the Seeker presses her back into the bed Trevelyan gives voice to the moan that has been in her throat all day. She’s glad that the armourers are making too much noise for it to be heard by anyone other than the woman in her arms.

Warm brown eyes meet hers and Trevelyan knows she is lost; she wants to do this every day for the rest of her life, Corypheus be damned. Laughter bubbles up in her chest as she rolls them over to pin Cassandra beneath her, kissing her soundly. When their lips finally part they are both breathing heavily. Trevelyan rests her forehead against Cassandra’s, unable to stop smiling.

“Maker but I love you Cass,” she breathes.

The smile that takes over Cassandra’s face is radiant and Trevelyan’s heart almost stops it is so beautiful. “And I love you.”

In her heart Trevelyan already knew it was the truth, but to hear the words out loud was… beyond anything she had ever experienced before. After a few more intimate kisses Trevelyan pulls away again, albeit reluctantly.

“Cassandra, could you do me a favour tomorrow?”

“Name it.”

“Could you perhaps be a little more careful about the way you move your hips?”

The smile Cassandra gives her in return is nothing short of wicked. “I promise nothing.”

Trevelyan groans, but concedes; she knows when she’s been beaten. And perhaps being devoured by this woman really isn’t a bad way to die.


End file.
